


Family

by EmmaArthur



Series: Whumptober 2019 [6]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Jesse Manes, Alex needs a hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jesse Manes is a War Crime, M/M, Michael Needs a Hug, Nightmares, Past Whump, Thankfully they're here to hug each other, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 09:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaArthur/pseuds/EmmaArthur
Summary: Michael keeps dreaming about that day in the toolshed, and he starts to wonder what Jesse Manes did to Alex after he dragged him away.





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> [abuse, mentions of violence, nightmares&flashbacks]
> 
> Whumptober day 6: **Dragged Away**.

Not for the first time, Michael curses Max for ever healing his hand. It's been actual years since he last had a vivid nightmare of that night, even with Alex coming back into his life so suddenly, but ever since Max healed him against his will, the dreams won't let up.

Every single night, he gets to relive that moment in the toolshed. Not even the good part, no, he's not that lucky. He never gets there before Jesse Manes opens the door. He never gets to see the  _lovewant _ in Alex's eyes.

Only the hammer.

His dreams never show him the pain the way it was, he knows. Pain is something people forget. Even aliens, it seems. Michael has a freakishly good memory for math and physics, but he forgets pain like anyone else.

He's heard that it's because if you remembered, you would end up petrified by the fear of it happening again. Michael doesn't agree. He doesn't need to remember the pain to be petrified by the sight of Jesse Manes, and the residual pain in his hand helped him remind himself why getting attached to anyone on Earth is a bad idea.

He's almost detached, strangely, as he watches Jesse Manes bring the hammer down on his hand. As terrifying as the nightmares are, Michael has become accustomed to these images. What he dreads these days are the dreams that don't stop there, that slip from flashback into the worst scenarios his mind can come up with. Usually they involve Manes turning on Alex after he's done with Michael.

It starts the same way, today. Through the tears and the haze of a pain he doesn't quite feel, Michael watches Jesse Manes take Alex by the collar of his shirt, brutally. He expects him to use the bloody hammer again, or maybe just his feet. Sometimes he uses his belt, and sometimes he simply has a gun tucked into his pants. None of that really happened.

Manes drags Alex through the door of the toolshed, and Alex doesn't even try to resist him.

Michael wakes up screaming.

Today was different, he realizes a while later, lying in his bed and dreading even the idea of going back to sleep. Today, he didn't see Alex get hurt in some horrible, gory way that makes him reach for the bottle of acetone he keeps on his nightstand to dull the nausea. It didn't veer into the usual horror show.

No, Alex being dragged away is a real memory. Just one that Michael had completely forgotten. Between the pain, and everything else that happened that night...Manes's hammer attached itself into his mind like a leech, but the rest faded away.

What did Manes do to Alex after they left the toolshed? Why has Michael never wondered about that before?

Michael grabs his phone. _Are you okay?_ he texts Alex, before he can stop himself and think.

He regrets it immediately, even though everything in him wants to make sure Alex is fine. They're at a really tentative stage of their relationship, and this is overstepping all kinds of boundaries. Alex made it clear that however much he loves Michael−and he did admit that, over and over−he's not ready to trust him again after Maria. He asked to take it slow, to try learning about each other and going on dates, but they've carefully avoided any loaded subject, and they haven't even touched since Caulfield.

Michael has done his best to respect that. He understands how betrayed Alex feels, that Michael hooked up with his best friend, right after they truly acknowledged their love for each other. He's apologized, and so has Alex, for many things, but they need time to rebuild the trust that came to them so naturally on that day in the toolshed.

Until Jesse Manes ruined everything.

_Yes,_ Alex answers, with a minute of delay.  _What's wrong?_

Michael only thinks to check the time now. 5:30, according to his phone. Damn. He must have woken Alex up.

_Sorry_ , he writes.  _Nightmare. _ They've both been working on being honest with each other.

_Are you okay?_ Alex writes back.

Michael thinks about it. He's not okay, definitely not. But he doesn't want to worry Alex, either. Except...it's already too late for that, isn't it?

_Could I come over?_ he texts. Then,  _Tell me if it's too much. Don't want to bother you. Sorry._

He closes his eyes in shame until his phone buzzes again.  _Of course you can come,_ Alex wrote.  _Or I can come to yours if you're not okay to drive._

_Thank you,_ Michael sends back. _ I'll be there in an hour._

He doesn't deserve Alex's worry, but he can't help but want it. He wants someone who cares about him, someone other than Isobel.  But more than anything, he wants Alex.

Not the sex. The sex is awesome, but Michael can survive without it. But he wants Alex to care for him in the way only he is capable of, he wants the physical proximity and to just be able to look at Alex's face and see a smile there. He wants Alex so much it hurts.

He wants Alex to want him back.

Standing up, he haphazardly throws on some clothes−the pants he was wearing yesterday, and a fresh tee-shirt. In under five minutes, he's sitting in his truck, ready to go.

He makes it to Alex's cabin in just under fifty minutes, cursing him for choosing to live this far out of town the whole way. Alex is fully dressed, prosthetic included, when he opens the door, even though it's only 6:30.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice rough from sleep. “Come on in. It's cold.”

Michael nods wordlessly and follows him inside. “I made coffee,” Alex says. “Already drank two cups waiting for you. I didn't want to fall asleep.”

“I'm sorry,” Michael offers. 

“For what?” Alex actually looks like he doesn't see what Michael could be sorry about.

“I shouldn't have texted you at that hour. It was thoughtless.”

Alex shakes his head.  “ I f nothing else, I know about nightmares. Waking up from them alone is rough. So I want you to text me every time if you feel like it, okay?”

Michael nods, then winces. “You don't know what you're signing up for,” he says.

“Every night?” Alex asks, perceptive as always.

“Nearly,” Michael looks down at his hands. “Since...Caulfield, and Max−”

“Call me,” Alex says firmly, putting a mug of coffee in front of him. Michael would rather have acetone, but coffee will do. “Every night if you have to. No, every night if you want to. This isn't something you should deal with alone.”

Michael looks up at him again. “Did you?” he asks.

“Did I what?”

“Deal with it alone.”

Alex shrugs. “Which time?” he asks.

Michael is surprised at his openness. Yes, they've told each other they want to be honest, but Alex is very private about what he's been through, whether at the hands of his father or during his deployments. He hasn't told Michael how he lost his leg, and Michael didn't ask. He doesn't want to push Alex into sharing things he doesn't want to.

“Whichever,” he answers. 

“After my injury, I was in mandatory therapy while in rehab,” Alex says. “I thought it would be awful, but it actually helped. A bit.”

“Do you still have nightmares?”

“Not as often.”

“You can call me too,” Michael offers.

Alex smiles. “Thank you,” he says. Michael knows he won't do it, but it was worth a try, and he got Alex's smile in the process. It's enough of a victory for today.

“What happened to you that day?” he asks. “After your father dragged you away?”

Alex stares. “After−” he starts slowly, but he doesn't seem to know how to finish. Michael realizes how out of the blue his question must have been. It's stuck in his mind since he woke up, but Alex was just thinking about his injury in Iraq, probably. Or one of the myriad things Michael doesn't know about his life in the last ten years.

“What did your father do?” he still presses. Now that the question is on his mind, he can't let it go. He needs an answer. He needs to know.

Alex looks away.

“What brought this on?” he asks.

“I don't know,” Michael hesitates. Telling Alex he's been dreaming about it seems unfair. “I was at Max's yesterday, and Liz was telling Rosa about her funeral, about who was there and who talked. And she said she didn't know why you weren't there. So I was wondering.”

“Yeah, I still regret that,” Alex sighs. “She was my friend.”

“She could be again,” Michael says.

“I don't know. I'm trying to give her some space, I'm sure it must all be overwhelming.”

“She could use a friend, actually. Someone who doesn't treat her like she's some kind of weird ghost. She won't trust me or Max because we covered up her murder, and, I mean, I wouldn't either, but Liz and Maria are really overbearing and overprotective and I think she could use someone she can actually talk to.”

“Maybe I'll go see her,” Alex nods. “Though she might hate me, now that she knows I didn't show up for her funeral.”

“Nah,” Michael shakes his head. “I mean, would you? Hate someone because they weren't at your funeral?”

Alex blinks. “Uh, I've never thought about it?”

“God, we have a weird life, don't we?” Michael groans.

Alex laughs. “You're the alien.”

“Seriously, though, I can't get it out of my mind,” Michael says, deciding to go for the truth. “I keep dreaming about that day, and...so much happened, it's kind of confused, but...he took you away. I didn't remember, before. I don't know, I guess I thought that he only hurt me, or I wanted to believe that, but...you looked so scared.”

“So that's what the nightmare was about,” Alex murmurs.

“Yeah.”

Alex sighs. “Look, I don't know what you want to hear−”

“The truth,” Michael says immediately.

“The truth,” Alex repeats. “But why now?”

“Because I'm an asshole? I don't know, I never even wondered what he did to you that night. That must sound _really_ insensitive, but it's the truth. You didn't show up at school again until graduation day, and even then you stayed, like, fifty feet away and you wouldn't look at me, and I never asked myself if it might be because you father hurt you too, and not because you didn't want me anymore.”

Alex's eyes are sad when Michael meets them. “Is that what you thought?” he asks. “Of course you did. That's why you accused me of always walking away. And I did. I walked away.”

“What did he do, Alex?”

Alex shrugs. “Roughed me up a bit. Threatened all kinds of things if it ever happened again. Took me to the enlistment office.”

“How much is a bit?” Michael frowns. Alex is too detached, like he's putting up a front.

“He only used his hands,” Alex says, almost like he's defending himself. Or is he defending his father?

“Alex−”

Alex rubs at his eyes and takes a deep breath. “He broke my collarbone and three ribs and nearly crushed my windpipe,” he says, angrily. “I couldn't speak for two weeks. Then he told me that if I ever so much as looked at you again, he'd break your neck and no one would even notice you were gone. Here, happy?”

Michael wants to retch. “No,” he says. “No, I'm not fucking happy. Fuck, Alex, I−” he blocks on the words, opening his mouth and closing it again. “Fuck.”

“I didn't even protest when he made me enlist,” Alex adds. His eyes are vacant, like he's gone far away in his mind. Michael isn't sure he can even see him. “I couldn't let him hurt you more. I didn't say goodbye to anybody, I just waited until I was healed and left. I let Liz and Maria deal with Rosa's death on their own, all because I was so afraid that if I even crossed paths with you again...”

Michael feels tears run down his face. _I_ _had no idea_, he wants to say, but it's not fair. He didn't ask. He didn't look for answers, and he didn't try to check on Alex at all.

“I'm so sorry, Alex,” he says instead. “I'm so fucking sorry.”

“Me too,” Alex says, still sounding like a robot. But Michael catches his eyes, finally, and they're shining. “What my father did to you−”

“He did it to you too,” Michael interrupts him. “You don't need to apologize for him. He's not your family.”

“No,” Alex blinks. “You−” he stops himself, his voice breaking. His gaze hangs onto Michael's, as if to ask if it's okay.

“I am, yes,” Michael says, standing up and opening his arms. “I'm your family. If you want me.”

“I do,” Alex murmurs. He leans into the hug, sobbing. “I really do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was not supposed to be over 2k words. At all. But it got out of control again.
> 
> I hope you liked it!


End file.
